


Planet of the Disney Apes – Peace, Joy, and Pancakes

by Squickqueen



Category: Rise of the Planet of the Apes (Movies)
Genre: Fanverse, Humor, I'm shook!, Multi, My Little Pony References, Planet of the Disney Apes, Silly, Swearing, cake lots and lots of cake, no alcohol, no beta we die like apes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25729831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squickqueen/pseuds/Squickqueen
Summary: The Colonel finds a new, evil way to torture Caesar and his apes, but maybe it'll bite him in the butt instead!
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Planet of the Disney Apes – Peace, Joy, and Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Planet of The Disney Apes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21305186) by [MackDreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MackDreamer/pseuds/MackDreamer). 



> It was high time for another silly PotA story and what better universe to play in than the "Disney Apes" universe? :3

_06:00 a. m., Caesar's bedroom – 80 hours before H-Hour_

The smell of freshly brewed coffee awoke Caesar from his slumber. He snuggled into the pillow, enjoying Cornelia's closeness and the rare silence of the early morning until the coffee's call finally became too strong, too irresistible to be ignored any longer. Its song lured Caesar out of his nest like the sirens lured Odysseus from his ship – except the coffee was successful.

Yawning and scratching his sternum, Caesar shuffled into the kitchen.

“Good morning, monkey,” Colonel McCullough greeted him in a jovial mood and turned around. The most horrible man in the Planet of the Apes universe wore Cornelia's apron, holding two eggs in one hand and a frying pan in the other.

“How do you like your eggs?”

Caesar stopped dead in his tracks. His right eye began to twitch uncontrollably before he walked backward out of the kitchen.

Stiff-legged, he climbed into the nest with Cornelia and pulled the blanket up to his chin, staring at the ceiling in fathomless silence.

“Made breakfast?” Cornelia snuggled up against her mate, for a second puzzled by his death-like stillness.

“No,” Caesar replied flatly. He tried to erase the image of the apron-wearing Colonel from his memory. Wasn't bleach said to help in these dire situations?

“What's wrong, dear?”

“The Colonel is in the kitchen. Frying eggs.”

Cornelia propped herself on her elbow and looked at Caesar with one raised eyebrow but there was no sign in her mate's features that he was playing her for a fool. Mumbling to herself she finally climbed out of the nest and made her way to the kitchen to see for herself. It took less than two minutes for Cornelia to return.

“Well?”, Caesar asked, afraid of the answer.

“Will have toast with eggs,” she replied.

* * *

_10:00 a. m., Rocket's kitchen – 76 hours before H-Hour_

Rocket cursed as the egg dropped to the floor with a soggy splat! Normally in a good mood when baking cookies and pies, Rocket’s blood boiled in anger today. And whose fault was it? Probably his own which made the situation at hand even worse. Irritated Rocket stared at the brown goo that was supposed to turn into a Black Forest Cake eventually, though the balding chimp doubted it. Currently, the abominable mass looked like something one usually flushes down the toilet. Rocket stuck his finger into the glop and had a taste.

“Ugh!”

And it tasted worse!

Rocket was at a loss. Where did he, chimp baker extraordinaire, go wrong? With the cake falling apart like this – and to be honest, calling this abomination cake was an insult to every single pastry around the world – it would be impossible to show his face among the other apes ever again. Perhaps it would be better to pack his bags and leave the apartment tower before Caesar learned of his failure.

Rocket was engrossed in the cake melodrama to such an extent, that he didn’t notice the person entering the kitchen, flipping through his cookbook.

“No wonder your cake looks like something the devil left behind after a bad case of diarrhea. You used the wrong measurements, baldy. This is an Austrian cookbook!”

Rocket squinted at the recipe. Indeed! Instead of asking for the usual cups, the recipe used grams, decagrams, and milliliter – what the hell were decagrams?!

And who the hell dared to enter his kitchen while he was in the middle of performing his pastry magic?

Rocket bared his teeth, the few hairs on his body bristled in anger and made him look like an old bottlebrush, but not a word or screech escaped his lips. The sight of the Colonel, with his sunglasses resting on the tip of his nose, frowning at the cookbook, was simply too grotesque for words.

Rocket stared at the man.

He continued to stare as McCullough flushed the devilish goo down the toilet where it belonged, and then, calculating quietly, started to reweigh the ingredients.

“Chop-chop, baldy, don't just stand there. Cake waits for no one. Forward march!”

As if stuck in a bad dream, Rocket first separated the eggs, before adding the yolks and a heap of sugar into a large bowl.

“Mixer,” the Colonel demanded, and Rocket handed him the tool without hesitation.

“Sift flour and cocoa. Fold in carefully! Sifter. Cherries. Preheat oven. Wait. Cream. Hands off!”

Order followed order, clear and snappy, and at one point Rocket had the vague urge to put on a bowl like a steel helmet, knock over the kitchen table and take up position behind it.

Layer after layer the Black Forest Cake grew in size and deliciousness. There was only one thing missing. The icing on the cake, so to speak. Handling the full frosting bag like a pro, the Colonel piped cream toppings on the cake one by one in perfect order. When he was finally done, he returned the frosting bag to Rocket.

“Lick it out.”

The chimp did as he had been told, while the Colonel decorated each topping with a cherry.

“Done!”

In all its cherry splendor, the Black Forest Cake stood in front of the two bakers, who had completely soiled themselves in flour, icing, and beaten egg whites.

Admiring the cake, Rocket's right eye suddenly began to twitch. How could he, in good conscious, present this cake to Caesar? It was impossible! If the king found out that the Colonel had made it, he would end up choking on it or have an allergic reaction.

There was only one solution: Rocket unceremoniously pushed the cake into the Colonel's hands.

“Oh, a gift? For me? I can't accept it!”

Rocket nodded frenetically.

_“Take it, by everything I hold sacred, take it and go!”_

“All right, if you insist.”

Balancing the cake on the platter, the Colonel marched out of Rocket's kitchen, leaving a chimp behind who vowed to never pick up a whisk again!

* * *

_03:00 p. m., Winters' room – 71 hours before H-Hour_

“Coming!”

Winter took one last look in the mirror to check if he was presentable. Red had invited himself without further ado and the white gorilla was determined to be on his best behavior. He couldn’t explain why he still bothered, as Red was always so mean to him but as far as Winter was concerned, being rude to a guest was worse than anything else. Even if the guest was an uninvited cranky Red.

When he finally opened the door only to see the Colonel instead of Red, Winter staggered back and slammed the door shut. Or wanted to, for McCullough had wisely blocked the door with his boot.

“Hi, Snow-White,” he said casually. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by. Fancy a cake?”

He squeezed past Winter who had turned into a pillar of salt and headed for the kitchen like a frigate under full sail. Winter was still standing at the open door when the Colonel returned with two plates of cake.

“Are you on a diet, or why are you standing there like one of Malcolm's garden gnomes? Sit down and have a cake, for Pete’s sake!”

Winter obeyed, simply out of fear to get stabbed with the pastry fork by the wicked human. His right eye started to twitch when the Colonel started to wander around his apartment, exploring every nook and cranny with cake plate in hand. He showed a particular interest in the small plastic ponies, that filled the apartment to the ceiling in all colors and shapes.

“You know, Snow-White, one of these days your ponies need a good brush. Twilight Sparkle here looks as dull as Caesar's face, Rainbow Dash couldn't defeat Preacher in a race, and who is this under the dust? Don’t tell me, it’s Pinkie Pie!”

Winter's eyes widened in surprise.

“How, you know, names?!”

The Colonel gulped down the last piece of cake and shrugged.

“John used to play with them when he was little.”

Somewhere in the great outdoors, far away from the apartment tower, a soldier sneezed in the middle of a battle against the forces of evil and then blew his nose. He hated it when that happened!

“Do you have a brush?” the Colonel continued.

“Yes.”

“Give it to me!”

* * *

_03:30 p. m., In front of Winter's apartment – 70 hours and 30 Minutes before H-Hour_

Red was late. Or to be more specific, in his mind he was on time because, as was his nasty nature, he’d never admit to being late. Especially when it came to visiting Winter. For all Red cared, Winter could wait until hell froze over. That would show the white gorilla just how little Red cared about him!

Humming to himself, the massive gorilla trotted towards Winter’s apartment, nibbling at the bouquet of roses he carried with him. He knew from experience, that it was always wise to have a few provisions on one’s person.

Finally, Winter's open apartment door came into view.

Wait a sec, _open_ apartment door?

Red hesitated. Winter never left the door open out of fear a ghost might enter his apartment. Red had once tried to explain that ghosts could walk through walls but to no avail. When it came to ghosts, Winter was a lost cause.

_I wonder if humans attacked and kidnapped Winter._

Maybe he should have been on time for once to heroically save the white gorilla. But no, he had been occupied by more pressing matters. Like taking a bath and buy flowers because who in their right mind would go on a date without flowers? Wait, date? Hell no, this was no date, he only wanted to visit Wintera to annoy the heck out of him and maybe play a bit with his plastic ponies.

Red nibbled off the last rose and threw the rest to the ground snarling before slowly approaching the open apartment.

Laughter rolled out from inside the apartment, confusing Red even more. Winter never laughed! A fit of jealousy stirred within the red gorilla’s chest so strong, that he burst into the apartment like a whirlwind of red fur and bared teeth.

“Ah, Rose-Red, you’re here at last! Snow-White here has been waiting for you rather impatiently.”

The Colonel sat cross-legged on Winter's floor and brushed Applejohn’s – Red was certain that was the name of the pony – mane. Winter sat across from McCullough and played happily with a spanking clean herd of groomed plastic ponies.

Red had to sit down.

McCullough threw Applejack into the gorilla’s lap and stood up.

“Cake?”

Red nodded. His mouth hung open. His right eye started to twitch.

He didn’t notice when the Colonel pranced into the kitchen to fetch a piece of Black Forest Cake and pushed it into his hands. He also didn’t notice when the Colonel brushed aside a strand of unruly red hair, pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, spat on it, and whipped the dirt off of the gorilla’s face.

“If you keep looking like a baboon's behind, you'll never go on a successful date!” he scolded Red.

“Is, no, date!”

“No, of course not. That's exactly the reason why I'm gonna leave you two cuties alone now. Play nice. Toodeloo!“

* * *

_07:00 p. m., Koba's secret weapons depot – 67 hours before H-Hour_

As he entered his secret weapons depot, Koba stopped short in his tracks and raised his nose high up in the air. Weird, did he just imagine it, or was there a faint waft of sugar and cherries in the air? His secret weapons depot was allowed to smell of only two things: Koba and weapons!

Alarmed, the bonobo got down on all fours and crept forward step by step. Which suicidal idiot dared to enter his fortress? These days no one seemed to understand a hint anymore. Perhaps it was time to change the painted skull and crossbones to barbed wire to scare off uninvited visitors!

“Save your sneaking around, One-Eye,” a cheerful voice boomed from the depths of Koba’s secret weapons depot, maybe not as secret, as Koba thought it to be.

Or how should he explain the fact that the Colonel was sitting on the sofa, Koba's dearest Kalashnikov neatly taken apart on the table in front of him? Was the… was the human taking care of his beloved gun? Cleaning it with the utmost care even?!

Koba's one eye bulged and almost sprang from its socket to roll over the floor and headbutt the Colonel.

“AAARGH! Gun, contaminated! With human! Can't touch... anymore!”

“Oh, stop complaining, it’s just sweat, sugar, and cream. Cake?”

* * *

_09:00 p. m., Blue Eyes's room – 65 hours before H-Hour_

Blue Eyes slammed the door shut and threw himself face down into his nest. Frustrated, he growled into his pillow. His father was so mean! Why was he never allowed to do anything fun ever? Lake and Ash could do whatever they wanted, or more precisely, go to the cinema to watch the latest _King-Kong-Trashing-Godillza_ flick, while he was doomed to listen to boring speeches by boring old apes who didn't even know what made the world tick! While Blue Eyes and his friends used the internet, they still wrote with chalk on stone tablets.

_Pathetic!_

Blues Eyes sat up and sniffled. At one point, he would be king of the apes, and then he would change the tune. He had a red Porsche in mind and maybe a private jet. Or at least a home cinema with a huge screen and a popcorn machine! Dreamily, Blue Eyes let his gaze wander. It’s when he noticed the piece of cake on his desk. Next to it was a DVD.

It read _Natural Born Killers_ , which immediately caught the young prince’s attention. Everything titled _Killers_ had to be good (and freak out his father)!

Without further ado, Blue Eyes put the DVD into his PlayStation, grabbed the cake, and made himself comfortable in his beanbag.

* * *

_09:15 a. m., Colonel McCullough’s apartment – 52 hours before H-Hour_

Preacher, who always had at least one eye cast on the Colonel, had naturally noticed the strange behavior of his favorite superior during the past day. At first, the young soldier told himself that the Colonel had simply resigned himself to sharing an apartment tower with a troop of apes. But in hindsight, that was a silly notion. When it came to apes, the Colonel lost all sense of reason and would rather blow up the entire tower than to get along with his neighbors. There had to be some other reason for his peculiar behavior.

Plucking up his measly courage, Preacher knocked on the door leading to McCullough’s study and entered after a sharp “Come in!”

The study was shrouded in twilight, with the blinds down and an atmosphere straight out of a film noir. Or the Twilight Zone.

Preacher blinked until he finally saw the figure of the Colonel standing in front of the window, his back turned on the young man.

“Report, soldier?”

“Uh, not exactly, sir.” Preacher nervously shuffled his feet. “I was just wondering, well... Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted.”

“Sir, I couldn't help but notice how friendly you were towards our neighbors, the apes. Is there a reason for your, sorry to say, peculiar behavior? Did Malcolm perhaps convince you that it would be better to live peacefully with Caesar and his troop rather than steal each other's remote controls and deliberately jam the elevator all the time?”

A sudden, bizarre noise filled the room, which Preacher at last identified as laughter. He got goosebumps all over and wished the Colonel would stop and return to his grumpy growl.

“Ape friend? _Me_?! You must be out of your mind, soldier! Of course not! It's all part of my devious plan. I'll give Caesar and his apes another day or two before they’ll break under the pressure of my kindness like brittle bones under my boot!

They can’t cope with the fact that the antagonist of their story is missing and will rather go at each other's throats than do without one. Victory will be ours and humanity will take back its rightful place. I can hardly wait until Caesar is on his knees begging for mercy!”

Finally, the Colonel turned around. He carried a headless Mickey Mouse plushy on his arm, stroking it thoughtfully, a spark of insanity nested in his cold blue eyes.

Preacher ignored the spark. He also ignored the headless Mickey Mouse.

“But, sir, isn't this dangerous? If Caesar and his apes disappear, won't we also become expendable? A story full of antagonists and no heroes... I don't think stories work that way.”

“Don't get all melodramatic! Mickey Mouse and I have a deal. _Avatar 2_ is about to launch and military forces like _Alpha-Omega_ are always needed in a blockbuster.”

“But, sir... Part one was such a terrible cliché fest. Do you really want to be used as cannon-fodder in part two? Besides, The Mouse is not to be trusted. Maybe he'll use us in the next _Indiana Jones_!”

“Don't be silly! There are no plans for _Indiana Jones 5_!”

Preacher said no more. The Colonel was obviously determined to carry out his nutty plan. What else was there for Preacher to do than to hope that Caesar would prove resilient to the Colonel’s devilish kindness?

* * *

_10:15 a. m., In front of Colonel McCullough's apartment – 51 hours and 45 minutes before H-Hour_

“Colonel, we need to talk!”

Caesar stood in front of the closed apartment door, talking quietly to himself. He held an open envelope in his hands, with the tip of a colorful invitation card peeking out.

“Thank you for the invitation to your garden party. Unfortunately, we can’t make it. So sorry, but...”

The door flew open.

“Monkey! What a pleasant surprise. Come in, come in, I just put a banana cake in the oven. I'm afraid there's nothing left of Rocket’s Black Forest Cake. Coffee?”

Caesar felt grabbed by the arm and – _Woosh!_ – yanked right into the apartment. He wasn’t able to resist, everything happened so quickly and he was already sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in front of him before he knew what was happening. The smell of banana cake muddled his senses. His right eye started to twitch.

“Sugar? Milk?” the Colonel offered, beaming with joy.

Caesar shook his head and took a sip of coffee as if in a trance.

_Damn good coffee!_

Cheerfully, the Colonel sat down opposite him and looked at him expectantly. Ah yes, he was here for a reason, Caesar remembered between delicious coffee and banana bread smell. The chimp slid the open envelope across the table.

“Ah, my garden party invitation! Fantastic, you received it. First I wasn't sure if Boyle’s smart enough to drop them off in the correct mailboxes. Malcolm already accepted. He can't wait until you and I finally resolve our differences. I don't even know what he means by that. After all, we're BFFs!”

Caesar choked.

“Colonel, I’m so very sorry, but we can't possibly accept your invitation!” he said quickly before the Colonel's cheerfulness took all the wind out of his sails.

“What? Why?! I don't understand! I expected you to accept the invitation with pleasure and join me for a beer to raise our glasses to a good neighborhood.”

All color drained from Caesar’s face and somewhere a whole patch of his fur turned gray.

“The last time we drank a beer together, I woke up with a slobbered arm!”

“Yeah, those were the days!” muttered the Colonel, looking dreamy.

“That was only a week ago! No, Colonel, I’m sorry, but we can't come. A garden party will drive my apes crazy.”

“What are you talking about? It will do them good to get out and see people. Ah, just one moment, the cake's ready.”

Light-footed like a billy goat, the Colonel hopped to the oven and brought a delicious looking cake to the table.

Caesar stared at the piece of cake in front of him. The cream slowly melted away.

“Go on, before it gets cold. Or don't you like banana cake?”

_I love banana cake!_

Caesar carefully shoved a piece of cake into his mouth. His taste buds exploded. Tears came to his eyes.

_DELICIOUS!_

“Acceptable,” he muttered and poked the pastry.

“I'm glad you like it. More coffee?”

“Stop that!”

“Stop what?”

“Stop being so nice!”

Caesar looked up and frowned at the man in front of him.

“What you’re doing is dangerous!”

One of McCullough's eyebrows arched and a hint of the old familiar mockery flitted across the man's face.

“You'll have to explain, monkey. Isn’t a righteous Colonel allowed to be kind to his neighbors?”

“Not if it’s you! Our whole world is based on us not getting along. My apes already turned completely upside down. It's pure chaos. Nobody knows what's right and wrong anymore! More of your kindness and everything will implode.”

The Colonel laughed and poured Caesar more coffee.

“Stop being silly, monkey. Kindness? Implode? Nonsense!”

But Caesar wasn't in the mood to laugh. He looked at the Colonel in all seriousness.

“Koba's been writing anti-war songs and wears flowers in his fur!”

“I'm sure he looks stunning.”

“Rocket’s not baking cookies anymore.”

“Tragic.”

“Winter’s bought himself a riding crop and Red's wearing a bridle!”

“Then they'll finally have a good time.”

“Blue Eyes wallpapered his room with posters of Woody Harrelson. Who is that?!”

“A great guy!”

Somehow Caesar felt that the Colonel didn't take him seriously.

“Please, Colonel, you're not stupid! Can't you see how the world around us is slowly coming apart at the seams? You must go back to… to being the asshole you used to be before this whole situation gets completely out of hand!”

The Colonel grinned an atomic smile that almost swept Caesar off his chair. He brought his fingertips together.

“Be an asshole? How could I be? With such pleasant neighbors! Another piece of cake?”

* * *

Stuffed to the gills and dumbfounded, Caesar staggered out of Colonel McCullough’s apartment. And ran right into Preacher’s arms, who came trotting down the hall in full gear with a face as long as a fiddle.

“Caesar!” he exclaimed and instinctively put his hand to his temple to salute.

“What are you doing here?”

“Eating cake. Drinking coffee,” muttered Caesar and pushed the crossbow arrow aside, which had come much too close for his liking. Was it just his imagination, or did Preacher pale a little upon his words?

“Then... it got worse? The Colonel, I mean,” the young soldier whispered.

“Worse? What do you mean, worse? How can it get any worse? We are this close to losing our antagonist and with him, we’ll all go down. I thought I could talk some sense into him, but I just can't compete with his flowery bastion of kindness! I even accepted his invitation to the garden party!”

Caesar buried his face in his hands and sobbed. Preacher patted his back reassuringly before taking him by the arm to pull him into one of the dark corners that always appear whenever two figures had something to talk about in secret.

“Did he tell you about the deal he made with the headless Mickey Mouse?”

Caesar groaned.

“I take that as a no."

“What are we going to do? For now, I'm keeping my apes in check, but I'm afraid this garden party's gonna drive them completely nuts. I'm afraid to go down to the cellar and see what a horrible person Maurice has become. What if he's turned into a rapper? With thick gold chains around his neck and two human women on each arm?!”

Preacher had never seen Caesar so hopeless. A friendly Colonel McCullough was probably too much, even for a simian hero like him.

“I wonder if it would work the other way round too,” Preacher thought aloud.

Caesar snorted.

“Are you suggesting someone has to be nice to the Colonel?”

“Not someone. You.”

“Over my dead body!”

“We'll all be corpses soon if the Colonel succeeds in his plan and suffocates us with his kindness!”

“Now don't get melodramatic and rather explain what's the point of not treating him as my archenemy anymore.”

“Oh, that's simple: he can't handle it. You'll corner him with your affection, and eventually, he'll either go on a date with you or throw a hissy fit and return to his old self.”

Caesar stared at Preacher.

“Are you implying that the Colonel wants to go on a date with me?!”

Preacher blinked.

“Am I? Of course not! It’s the Colonel we are talking about.”

“... right.”

Man and chimp kept silent a little too long. Preacher finally coughed.

“Will you help me?”

“I guess so. What choice do I have?”

“Very well! I think faking a few diary entries will do the trick.”

“Diary... how do you know about my diary?!”

“Oh, didn't you know the Colonel has a habit of reading your diary?”

Caesar’s left eye started to twitch.

* * *

_08:20 a. m., Colonel McCullough's apartment – 5 hours and 40 minutes before H-Hour_

“Preacher!”

“Yes, sir?”

The Colonel stepped out of the bathroom wearing only boots and camouflage pants, toothbrush in his mouth and Caesar’s diary in his hand. Grumbling “Read!” he threw it at Preacher's head.

> _Entry 423_
> 
> _Dear diary_
> 
> _The world is blowing up in my face. My apes are losing it. Koba sings anti-war songs from morning to night and I can't stand his "Make Love, not War" anymore! The world is upside down. And I'm afraid it's all my fault._
> 
> _P.S.: Today the Colonel invited me to cake and coffee. The guy makes the best coffee in the world!_
> 
> _~*~  
> _
> 
> _Entry 424_
> 
> _Dear diary_
> 
> _Maybe I misjudged the Colonel. Once you get to know him better, he isn’t such a bad guy. A little nuts maybe, but aren't we all nuts these days? Haha :'D_
> 
> _I invited the Colonel to a movie night. The beer is cold - I couldn't find his German cliché beer, but I hope he likes the Austrian one, too. I may be going crazy, but I'm looking forward to his visit._
> 
> _I wonder if this is the beginning of what Luca calls Bromance._
> 
> _~*~_
> 
> _Entry 425_
> 
> _Dear diary_
> 
> _Why have I never noticed before how charming and attractive the Colonel is?_

Preacher looked up from the diary.

“Uh, it seems you've made quite an impression on Caesar, sir.”

“ _Made an impression_?! That son of a bitch has a crush on me! How dare he?!”

“Uh, congratulations, sir?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“No, of course not! But you must admit, you've spent a conspicuously amount of time with Caesar, and I thought to myself, well... You’re also constantly warbling away love songs, trimming your beard, spiffing yourself up, and polishing your medals.”

The Colonel made a sound like a retching cat that got kicked in the balls. He turned on his heel, disappeared into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut.

A satisfied grin crept across Preacher’s face.

* * *

_02:00 p. m., Back Yard – H-Hour_

Though, strangely enough, the garden party had been Colonel McCullough’s idea, it was Malcolm who prepared everything. The man was always willing to drop everything to help improve the relationship between apes and humans, so taking care of a garden party was no big deal and he was happy to help. The drinks were cold - he had accidentally bought non-alcoholic beer and hoped that no one would notice - the food ranged from vegetables to grilled cheese, to tender steak and golden corn on the cob, and he also took care of the music. Though Caesar once confided to Malcolm that apes had no use for music because all they could hear was white noise, Malcolm didn't want to believe that. Everyone loved the ’80s, right?

Even the weather goddess had a sense of understanding and blessed the party guests with bright sunshine and a clear blue sky.

Malcolm, his wife Ellie, and his son Alexander walked back and forth between the party guests with trays and offered them drinks. And indeed, after they had overcome their initial shyness, apes and humans got along surprisingly well. There was joking and drinking and Rocket and Maurice even arranged a beach volleyball match against Dreyfus and his men.

Malcolm rubbed his hands. The party went like clockwork!

That is until the Colonel showed up with a rocket launcher resting on his shoulder and first sent the ‘80s to hell and then turned the barbecue into a sizzling inferno. Apes screeched, humans screamed, hot dogs hissed. Within seconds the garden was swept clean, except for Colonel McCullough, who stood in the middle of the inferno like a rabid god of vengeance.

Caesar, who had saved himself onto a windowsill, breathed a sigh of relief. This was the Colonel he knew! Batshit crazy and ready to blow everything to smithereens. Caesar could literally feel the world around him click into place again!

* * *

_Three days later_

Everyday life returned and soon no one involved in the past happenings could say for sure, what had happened. The whole episode felt like a fever dream.

Koba had eaten all his flower wreaths, burned his songs, and had returned to his old, warmongering self. Rocket‘s delicious cookies made themselves comfortable on the hips of humans and apes again, while Red and Winter had returned to their complicated normality. Blue Eyes had taken down all the Woody Harrelson posters, except for the one on the outside of his door, because he had noticed that his father showed an incomprehensible aversion towards the actor.

Preacher had stopped by briefly to thank Caesar for his help and vowed not to send the Colonel any more diaries, but then quickly disappeared to avoid drawing attention to himself. The Colonel would skin the young soldier alive if he ever learned that he had helped to foil his plans.

With that in mind, it makes sense that Caesar, loaded with two full shopping bags, did suspect no evil when he entered the elevator to go up, when all of a sudden a hand shot between the elevator doors, pushed them apart, and revealed Colonel McCullough. He scowled at Caesar while the doors closed behind him.

Caesar had not seen the man since the garden party and feared the worst but the Colonel just kept staring at him. Ah, that was so much better than the kindness of the past days. Caesar would've never admitted it, but he had missed asshole Colonel!

“I know it was all your doing, monkey.”

The Colonel pricked his index finger accusingly against Caesar’s chest.

“My work? You blew up the garden party, remember? And I was _so_ looking forward to it!”

McCullough frowned.

“I'm not talking about that stupid garden party, I'm talking about making a fool of myself for nothing! It will take weeks before I can look at myself in the mirror again in good conscience - do you know how hard it was to be nice to you stinking kongs? And then you come along and spoil everything!”

Caesar put on his most endearing smile.

“But what have I done wrong? I gave you all my attention. Wasn't that what you wanted?”

Caesar moved in closer. The Colonel stepped back until there was no more space to step in.

“Oh, I'm sorry, we must have completely misunderstood each other then.” Caesar batted his eyelashes and shook with laughter internally at the sight of the Colonel. The man pressed himself against the elevator door as if he wanted to merge with it.

“Be that as it may,” McCullough croaked, “but don't think you won the war just because you won the battle! Watch your back, monkey.”

“With an opponent as formidable as you in the house I am always on my guard,” Caesar smiled.

The Colonel opened his mouth to reply when the elevator jerked to a stop and the doors opened, with McCullough almost losing his balance. Somehow he managed to exit with grace.

Caesar grinned with glee.

And ducked to the side as quick as lightning when a notebook suddenly blasted through the crack of the closing elevator doors. When he picked it up, he recognized it as his diary. Absent-minded, Caesar leafed through the pages and suddenly stopped short. Strange, he couldn’t remember writing something in red ink.

> _Entry 425_
> 
> _Dear diary_
> 
> _Why have I never noticed before how charming and attractive the Colonel is?_
> 
> _ And you haven’t seen a thing yet! But we can change that any time. You know where I live <3 _

Caesar tore out the page, rummaged in his fur for a lighter and set the diary page on fire. Silently he watched the paper curl, first brown, then black as the flame destroyed everything. Only when the paper lay on the ground in front of him in an ash heap did Caesar allowed himself to breathe again.

~The End~

**Author's Note:**

> I probably messed up the times - sorry if I did ^^;


End file.
